


What Happens Next

by Sweetloot



Series: After the Orange Grove [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Cecil is Mostly Human, Episode Related, Episode: e038 Orange Grove, Fluff, I don't really describe him physically other than what they do in the show, M/M, Spoilers, Synesthesia, because someone told me that relating colors to emotions is one aspect of this and Cecil does this, don't read unless you've listened to the episode, please tell me if it is, possibly ooc??, ps the angst thing isn't all that angsty to be honest, though it is only a small part of the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetloot/pseuds/Sweetloot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(What happens after episode 38: "Orange Grove")</p><p>Carlos is acting peculiar, Cecil isn't sure why, and then they have a talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens Next

_Listeners, let me release my own special announcement:_

_Cecil Palmer would like to not be late for dinner._

_Stay tuned next for an hour that will feel like minutes but will, in actuality, take weeks._

_Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight._  
~~~  
As soon as the brightly lit on-air 'do not disturb' sign flickered out, and the last of the radio equipment's humming had quieted, Cecil slumped back in his chair, radio headphones tossed onto his desk next to his half-empty cup of coffee. 

_Funny,_ Cecil thought absently, _that cup of coffee probably saved my life._

But, then again, many things are probably saving his life at any moment of any day and, as it is impossible to contemplate on all of them, he simply brushed away the thought, finished the cup of coffee he had been drinking while Intern Maureen offered him orange juice before flickering out of existence ( _“To the family of Intern Maureen: She was a good intern, with a beautiful puppy, and a chatty neighbor. She will be missed”_ ) and went about cleaning his desk.

Once everything was neat and in order for the next show (blood stones placed back in their box, subsequent stains from said blood stones cleaned up, new intern order form signed and awaiting approval, all equipment powered down), Cecil grabbed his keys and made for the door.

The stain-not-stain of void on the carpet looked like it had stopped spreading, that was good, but Cecil was careful to avoid accidentally stepping in it and being lost to the infinite and indifferent plane of existence. He'll have to remember to pick up a throw rug before coming back to the studio. He'd get one in purple, Maureen had liked purple. 

Once through the threshold, Cecil shut and locked the door behind him, and was about to leave, but not before looking down the darkened hallway towards the frosted glass door that used to hold Station Management. It was quiet, there were no large shapes shifting around, no strange tendrils whipping through the air, no clicking footsteps or faint hissing sounds. It was all too quiet.

Cecil sighed inaudibly, lest his new supervisor, _Daniel_ , still be slinking through the halls somewhere. The old Station Management wasn't perfect, not with its threats of ending the show (or his life, their wording _was_ kind of ambiguous), but we all have our flaws, right? No one is perfect (besides his perfectly, imperfect Carlos, that is), but they were _his_ Station Management, valued members of Night Vale, and for them to disappear without a trance, and for Cecil, a radio host, one whom that has sworn to deliver the news by any means necessary, not to know where they are? Well, that just doesn't sit right with him. Cecil was telling the truth when he said he hoped Tamika Flynn found StrexCorp first. 

But there was nothing to be done about that now, and he was wasting far too much time standing around a darkened hallway (his wristwatch, the only working one in Night Vale, told him so in a whispered, gravely voice). Cecil was also telling the truth when he announced he would like to not be late for dinner, so, with one final look around the hall (mostly to avoid running into _Daniel_ ), Cecil makes his way out of the Station and towards his boyfriend's lovely apartment.  
~~~  
Cecil's heart fluttered (metaphorically, of course) as he pulled into the driveway of Carlos' apartment. He had been mentally replaying the day's events when the sight of the building reminded him of part of the email Carlos had sent to him earlier that day. _'As far as your other question goes, let’s stay home tonight.'_

_'Home.'_

Carlos had been referring to the apartment attached to his lab as their _'home'_ in passing these last few months. It seemed so natural the way he said it, like he didn't even realize he was saying it at all. It was true that they had been spending a lot of time together, and that when they didn't go out that was where they were, but Cecil hadn't officially moved in yet (there was a lot of paper work and screeching at the City Council, wherever they were, to be done before that would be allowed). He didn't spend the night there often, but when he did it just felt _right,_ like their ever fluctuating existence had finally decided to match with their concepts of reality. Also, a bit like sitting down after a long day, slipping into your comfiest sweater, and watching cat videos. Oh, they were so cute. He'll have to remember to upload that video of Khoshekh later...

Closing the door to his car, and patting its hood when it gave a contented purr, Cecil walked up to the front door, hand digging in his pocket for his keys. It was a relief when he found them right where they should be. Sometimes things get lost, and Cecil would hate to have to go all the way to the library's 'lost and may always be lost and not found' box and fight his way through the hoards of librarians to get them. Last time had been so annoying.

With one final click, the door swung open and Cecil was greeted by the delicious scent of felafels, “It smells great in here, Carlos,”...and by an arm full of boyfriend.

Cecil stumbled back a bit from the force of the hug.“Whoa, hello there, Carlos. What's all this about?” Carlos' reply was muffled by his face being in the crook of Cecil's neck. He snickered, Carlos' facial hair tickled, “Say again?”

Carlos pulled back from the embrace, hands still holding onto Cecil's sides, and smiled, “Just happy to see you, I guess.”

Cecil gave him a bemused smile in return and didn't question the sudden gesture of affection, if Carlos needed a hug, well, who was he to deny him? When Carlos dropped his hands back down by his sides, Cecil caught one and linked their fingers together, “I'm happy to see you, too. So, what are we watching tonight?”

After they finished dinner they ended up watching both the documentary on scatterplot matrices and _The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance._ Half way through the film, they found themselves laying down on the couch, Cecil's back pressed comfortably against Carlos' chest, Carlos' arms wrapped securely around the other's middle. Cecil was enjoying the movie, but Carlos seemed a bit distracted. He was restless, jittery, like a tightly coiled spring.

When the movie ended, Cecil disentangled himself from the embrace, causing a short whine of confusion to come from the other, and quickly turned so that he was facing the scientist.

Cecil brought his hand up to swipe his thumb across the furrow between the other's brow, erasing the lines there, then, kissing the spot where his thumb had been, Cecil said, “You've been radiating puce since I got here.” Carlos didn't speak, simply raised one eyebrow up in confusion.

Puce was a color that suggested worry, stress, or anxiety, and Carlos' aura had a streak of it across the center, like he had felt it in abundance earlier but it had yet to dissipate fully. Cecil wasn't sure what had caused such a feeling. _'Maybe he had done something wrong? He'd never been very good at the whole relationship thing, had he read the signs wrong? Maybe he wasn't welcome anymore?'_ All sorts of what ifs and maybes floated throughout his head before Cecil asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” The outburst made both of them jump, Cecil would have fallen off the narrow couch if Carlos hadn't wrapped his arms around him earlier. “Um, that is I-no, no I don't want you to leave. Sorry.” Carlos ducked his head, a dark blush crawling up his neck and settling on where his ears peaked out from under his hair. His hands fidgeted where they seemed to have absently found their way under Cecil's shirt, fingers unknowingly ghosting over where the corner of Cecil's desk had jabbed him earlier that day. 

Carlos seemed deep in thought when Cecil said quietly, “Alright, I won't leave.” That seemed to relax the nervous scientist, his shoulders loosing some of their tension.

Cecil was lost in the lush feeling of his fingers gliding through the soft locks of the other man's hair when Carlos seemed to gather himself, “You know I listen to your show everyday, right?”

Cecil beamed at that. He had assumed Carlos listened to the broadcast when he wasn't busy doing his experiments, but he had been listening everyday? “Really?”

“Yes, I was listening today too.”

Cecil nodded. “A shame what happened to Maureen. I was thinking about getting a throw rug in her honor. Oh, and John Peters – you know, the farmer? – tragic what happened to him, what with that imposter-”

And just like that, what was bothering his beloved Carlos shattered over him like so many glass light bulbs. _'Puce, worry, John Peters – you know, the farmer? – imposter, listen to your show everyday...'_

“Oh, dear, sweet Carlos, I'm alright.” Carlos tightened his grip, pulling the other into a warm embrace.

“I know, I know. It's irrational to think otherwise. You're here, I can see you, feel you. The data is all there but-” He takes an inhale of breath. “-but I can't help but worry over you.” 

Cecil knew his job wasn't the safest one in Night Vale but he had gotten used to occasional brawl in his recording studio or Intern vanishing into thin air. He hadn't thought it was that big of a deal.

But from the way his boyfriend was talking, it must be for him what Cecil felt whenever there was even the _possibility_ that Carlos could be hurt or in danger.

“I know it's your job, and that statistically _any_ job in Night Vale has such a great risk for danger that it's actually rather commonplace-”

“I'm sorry.”

“You're sorry-what? Wait, why?”

“I forget that you're not from here and, from what you've told me of your home, Night Vale does seem a bit... _threatening_ from an outsider's perspective. I should have called to say I was alright.”

“No, no, you were already on your way home. I knew you were alright, I could hear you, I'm just being a worrier...”

Cecil laughed affectionately, “Well, that makes two of us then.” Cecil seemed to sober a bit, then said, “I can't promise that I'll be safe at work.”

Carlos sighed, “I know.”

“As I know you can't promise that you'll be safe while you do your research, loath as I am to admit it.”

“Unfortunately, that is also true.”

“And that leaves us both to worry about the other uselessly as there is no way for the other to be safer than they already are.”

“Right.”

“So, what are we going to do about this?”

Carlos leaned back from where he was snuggling into Cecil's chest so that he could rest his forehead against the other's, “I don't think there is a correct answer for this one, Cecil. We can't quit our jobs, we value them too much, same as we can't leave Night Vale, it's where we're needed...”

“And we can't leave each other, as I refuse.”

Carlos laughed, “Right, that one wasn't even an option.” Carlos then shrugged the shoulder he wasn't leaning on and asked, “What do you suggest?”

Cecil hummed as he pecked a kiss to the corner of the other's mouth before answering, “I guess we live one day at a time, however long those days are.”

Carlos just nodded before pressing a firmer kiss to Cecil's smiling lips.

As Cecil started peppering kisses along the bridge of his nose, Carlos whispered, “Cecil, would you stay the night?”

Cecil's heart fluttered again (at this rate he was sure he was going to need to get that checked), then slid off the couch, Carlos' hand clutched firmly in his.

They went about putting everything back in its rightful place, made sure to turn off the lights but left one on in case the Faceless Old Woman decided to stop by, and all the while managed not let go of the other. 

Night Vale might be dangerous, and one day one of those dangers might prove to be too much for them, but so long as they had each other, in their almost-home together, then everything would turn out alright.

As alright as things ever get in Night Vale, that is.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I just needed to have them talk after that episode. I hope you enjoyed it. :) Comments and kudos are always welcomed.


End file.
